


Half of Me

by Cicerothewriter



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ambiguously Happy Ending, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-22
Updated: 2013-06-22
Packaged: 2017-12-15 19:59:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/853474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cicerothewriter/pseuds/Cicerothewriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin Oakenshield, now King Under the Mountain, rules Erebor with Bilbo Baggins by his side.  Not everyone is happy with his choice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Half of Me

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first plunge into _The Hobbit_ fandom, and I'm a bit nervous. I originally had a longer story planned as my initial offering, but then this story woke me up at 6:30 am, and wouldn't leave me until I had written it. I hope that you all enjoy it.
> 
> I see this as a happy-ish story, but you may not think so. My friend, Soul_Bonnie, called this bittersweet.
> 
> Please let me know what you think. I love feedback.

Lanterns filled the dark crevasses of the mines, and as Thorin looked up, the sight reminded him of stars in the sky. Inky black swaths of cloth cut by yellow warmth. Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain, heard a soft gasp and turned to his companion.

Bilbo Baggins stood next to him, his eyes wide and soft. Thorin smiled at him, and said, "What are your thoughts?"

"Like thousands of fireflies," Bilbo replied, his attention reluctantly returning to Thorin. Thorin could see when that reluctance faded, replaced with admiration, and he felt proud. He brushed the backs of his fingers just millimeters from Bilbo's cheek.

"My Halfling," he whispered.

"I'm not half of anything," Bilbo replied softly.

"You are half of me," Thorin replied.

Bilbo laughed. "Confounded dwarf," he said fondly. "Confounded, soppy dwarf."

 

Thorin wished that he had spoken sooner than after their arrival at Laketown: Beorn's, the Carrock, Rivendell, or better still, Bag End. Thorin had seen Bilbo's four-poster bed, too large for a single hobbit, but perfect for two lovers. He could imagine himself spread out, hair loose, as Bilbo straddled him. He doubted that Bilbo would have welcomed him that night, but it was still a lovely fantasy. Reality had been so much better.

In the prisons of Mirkwood, they traded kisses made even sweeter by the relief of their mutual survival; however, circumstances prevented anything more than that. It was not until Laketown that Thorin had been able to make further mention of his desires.

Two nights were all they had before they set off for Erebor. That first night, they fumbled as new-found lovers are wont to do. Thorin had never laughed during lovemaking, it seemed unnatural to him, but when their noses bumped or Bilbo got his hand caught in Thorin's hair, Bilbo's laughter amused rather than angered him. At the noise of frustration Bilbo made when he could not kiss Thorin on the lips while buried deep within him, Thorin found himself laughing softly, hands stroking Bilbo's curls and smooth line of his back.

Bilbo giggled, and then thrust harder.

Dedicated practice made them experts in each other's pleasure, and on the morning of their departure they made love as smoothly as if they had been married for decades. Thorin could hardly wait until they reclaimed Erebor so that he could offer a kingdom and his kingly powers to those whom he loved most: his sister-sons, his cousins, and his other half.

 

"I don't trust him, Thorin," Bilbo said softly, his lips close to Thorin's ear. "He has never paid homage to you. He plots behind your back."

Thorin nodded ever so slightly, but otherwise he did not acknowledge Bilbo's words. Bilbo stepped back, out of Thorin's line of vision. He glanced at Balin, who looked calm but concerned.

"Some say that you have lost your mind," Balin said once the council departed.

"Lost my mind?" Thorin said, resting his forehead in his hand. Fili and Kili stood before him, twin looks of anxiety on their faces. If only Dis were here, but no, she was dead, too…

Too?

"Yes," Balin said. He looked about to say more, but Kili interrupted him.

"Uncle?" he said, his voice earnest and still so young. "We worry about you. You've been locked in grief for so long." His dark eyes shone with tears. "We miss him, too."

Too.

Yes.

No!

Thorin surged from his throne, but once he stood he had no idea what to do next. He did not wish to sit, to stand, to pace, to throw things; he wanted…

"Bilbo," he whispered, tears coming to his eyes.

Bilbo Baggins was dead. Thorin had not killed him, but he was responsible for his death. Bilbo should not have been on the road, unprotected, carrying an enticing treasure; he should have been in Erebor, celebrating their victory with the dwarrows and later with Thorin alone. Instead he was killed on the road, his body found where he had defended himself, and the treasure squabbled over by animals.

Bilbo's body now lay in the stones, a tomb next to his own, a tomb intended for a consort.

Gandalf had come to him, grieving, but also asking about a ring. Thorin had waved him away. Nothing had been left to Bilbo, not even the courting bead Thorin had given to him. Thorin knew that Bilbo had been wearing it, despite the terrible way in which they had parted, because the half-undone braid had remained in his curls when the body was returned to him.

Thorin personally prepared Bilbo's trousseau for burial, including the courting beads, the marriage braid, and the braids of the line of Durin. He indulged himself by adding a few rings and bracelets to his beloved's fingers and arms, but otherwise restrained himself from covering Bilbo in jewels. Rich, colorful cloth, a diadem, and flowers completed the picture.

 

Thorin returned to his rooms that evening, his heart aching, his eyes dry from crying too long. He knew what he had to do. For the good of his people, his friends, and the line of Durin.

Bilbo sat on the bed, dressed in a simple shirt and trousers. He looked anxious, near tears, and his fingers and toes twitched with nervous energy.

"You are not here," Thorin said, his voice hoarse and grieving.

"I am," Bilbo replied. "I swear; it is I."

Thorin shook his head. "My grief… my grief makes you real. It brings me to madness once more."

"No," Bilbo cried, standing up. Thorin almost fancied that the bedclothes moved beneath him. "I am real. Please, Thorin, you must believe me."

"I wish, Bilbo. Oh, how I wish it were so." He remembered Balin's words, and could see the fear in Fili and Kili's eyes. "You must leave me."

"No," whispered Bilbo. "No, please."

"You must."

"Thorin." Bilbo's anguished response nearly made him double over in pain. He turned away, but Bilbo hurried to stand in front of him.

"Please, Thorin, please do not send me away. Not again. You sent me away once. I could not bear it twice."

Thorin gazed into Bilbo's hazel eyes, heart breaking at the tears trailing down Bilbo's pale cheeks. Without thinking he cupped Bilbo's cheek with one hand; no warmth, but a certain ethereal solidness greeted him, and he closed his eyes, bringing their foreheads together.

"Mahal forgive me, but I cannot send you away twice."

He felt a puff of air against his skin, and a soft laugh. He opened his eyes to see the happiness in Bilbo's gaze.

"We'll just have to be more careful," Bilbo replied.

Thorin's lips twitched, and he reluctantly smiled. Bilbo's hands reached forward and stroked his beard, laughing again as Thorin made a purring sound.

"Careful," Thorin murmured. "No more talking to me while I'm at council meetings."

"Very well, but I still thing that dwarf is untrustworthy… and rude."

"You said that about me once," Thorin chided playfully.

"Well, you are," Bilbo replied, his face scrunched up with mock seriousness. "Rude, conceited, and completely wonderful."

"My Halfling," Thorin said, brushing back a curl from Bilbo's face.

"I am half of nothing, Thorin Oakenshield," Bilbo replied, and Thorin rejoiced at the love he could see clear and strong. If this was madness, then he prayed that he never regained sanity.

"You are half of me," he replied.

 

Dwalin was walking past the king's chambers to his own room, but he stopped when he heard laughter. If he did not know any better, he would have sworn that he could hear Bilbo laughing. He shook his head, and continued on.


End file.
